


The Ballerina Boy

by justgotowisharder



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Ben w is the bad guy, Bottom Harry, Broken Harry, Deepthroating, Feminization, Fingerfucking, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Happy Ending, I can't write sad endings, Innocent Harry, M/M, Past Abuse, Protective Louis, Sleepy Cuddles, Top Louis, ballerina!harry, everybody is crazy, except Louis, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justgotowisharder/pseuds/justgotowisharder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t healthy, falling in love with a circus artist. They enchant you with their skills,  capture you with a dance, and steal your heart with an illusion trick.</p><p>It’s too late for Louis, anyway. Harry already stole his heart.</p><p>(Or the one where the boys work in a circus, Harry is the pretty ballerina locked in a cage and Louis loves him more than anything in this world.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballerina Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a mix between american horror story: freak show and the steal my girl video. I’m a sucker for the circus, if you want to know.  
> I didn't make any time allusion, so you can imagine the story happening whenever you'd like to.  
> be aware: this is probably a madness with no sense at all. i just wanted to write something with a caged harry.  
> I want to say thanks to [Jordan](http://not-that-fireproof.tumblr.com/), who beta'd this work. Go and tell her she's awesome.
> 
> lottie xx

“Excuse me? All tickets are sold out? I’m Louis Tomlinson, I've waited months to see this show!”

“I’m sorry Mister whoever you are, tickets are sold out,” the ticket seller says again, boredom printed in his face. "If you don't like it, you can… I don’t know, cry?"

Louis punches the counter with his tiny fist; his squinted eyes stare at the wrinkled man, irritated. He’s not coming back home with empty hands. No, fuck him; fuck whoever bought the last ticket.

He needs to see The Ballerina Boy.

“Let me in, ok? This fucking circus only visits Doncaster twice a year and…”

“Sir, if you keep being rude with me, I’ll have to call the cops.”

“Seriously?” Louis asks, arching an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me?”

The ticket man doesn’t appear to be frightened by Louis. It doesn’t matter how rude Louis pretends to be, he's only a tiny boy, after all. He isn't even that intimidating.

Meanwhile, the music inside the striped circus tent starts playing, making Louis’s heart skip a beat. It has started. He's dancing inside the tent, being the beautiful ballerina he was meant to be.

“I’ll tell you this just one…”

“Hey.”

It’s a voice behind Louis the one that interrupts his tantrum. The boy turns around and finds a tall, slim and brown-haired boy looking straight at him.

“Mr. Malik, everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Louis denies, shaking his head. “I need to see Harry.”

The name escapes his lips. He just says it as he says any other word; forgetting that he’s _Ballerina Boy_ for most of the people, not Harry Styles.

Malik frowns, surprised, and doesn't hide a smirk before reaching out his hand and take hold of Louis. “Come with me, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere without Harry." Louis wants to make it clear. He’s in a terrible mood, everything seems annoying right now. He doesn’t want to be polite or build a nice friendship; he doesn’t want any fucking thing but Harry.

“Hey, respect him!” the ticket man yells, scandalized. “He’s Zayn Malik, the best illusionist of all time!”

 _Wait_ , Louis thinks. Zayn. The name sounds vaguely familiar to him. He's the one who signed the note.

Louis takes a piece of paper from his pocket, eyeing at the words. It’s a short and simple letter signed by the man in front of him. It says:

 

_We’re in Doncaster. Come. Ben wants Harry, and he won’t stop until he gets him. Help him, please._

 

“You’re the one who sent me the note,” Louis tells, pointing the finger at him.

“I am. Are you coming?”

Zayn doesn’t wait for a reply; he just starts walking with no known direction. Louis glances at the closed door, then at the ticket man, and after flipping the bird to him, he decides to follow Zayn.

They don’t say much. They only walk all the way through the wagons and circus tents in a dead silence.

It’s all plainly new for Louis: people walking around in weird costumes, shiny wigs, with the most eccentric makeups he has even seen. Zayn doesn’t wave at any of them, even when most of the people mutter a weak  “ _hey, zayn”_   when they see him passing through.

Louis feels so out of place, honestly.

The circus gives him a weird mix of emotions, because it’s a place meant for people to be happy, yet those who work in there... They are people with really sad lives. Traveling everywhere, never settling down, missing, wanting, aching.

His throat closes when he thinks about his lovely ballerina. He wasn’t supposed to fall this hard for him, it wasn't safe. His show is world-wide famous, he's the famous male ballerina.

Things are complicated.

They reach a tiny tent that seems to be empty. There’s no one around, just a couple of musical instruments spread by the ground and a pile of boxes with no label on them.

“Wait here.”

Zayn disappears inside the tent, leaving Louis alone in the middle of the circus without any safe company.

He glances around awkwardly, finding the total emptiness surrounding him. The music is still playing, but it sounds distant. He can barely see the main tent.

God, he’s nervous.

“Louis Tomlinson.”

Someone calls his name. Louis jumps involuntarily, surprised, trying to find who has talked to him. There’s no one visible.

“Hum…. Hello?”

He turns around and bumps into a tall, handsome man staring at him. He’s wearing a silver suit with a troupe hat. He wears a well-cut beard and his brown eyes look at Louis as a hunter looks at their prey.

“Hey…” Louis says, stepping back.

The man takes something from the pocket of his silver suit jacket: a card deck.

“Do you want me to read your fortune?”

“Why do you know my name?” Louis asks out of the blue while the man plays with his cards. They’re tarot cards.

“Harry,” is the simple answer the guy gives to him.

Louis’s heart races inside his chest.

“Where is he? I’m here to see him.”

“Patience is a very good quality, Louis,” he mutters and shows the cards to him. “Choose three.”

Louis rolls his eyes, completely annoyed, and picks three random cards. He pretends he doesn’t pay attention to the way the silver suit boy stares at them, frowning and muttering things only he can understand.

When he looks up at him though, his expression has changed. He looks serious, out of character. He isn’t a circus artist anymore, he’s a person, and it gives chills to Louis how fast he could change his attitude.

“I know Zayn wrote you and I’m glad he did. You need to help Harry,” he whispers as he looks around nervously. “He doesn’t have chances here. If he stays, he’s going to be Ben’s pretty puppet doll forever. Do you know Ben Winston, our boss, the head of this circus company? Well, he's bad for Harry. Save him. Take him with you.”

“Do you think I don’t want to do it?” Louis asks back, raising eyebrows. He doesn’t know why are they whispering, but he doesn’t have the guts to talk loudly, anyway. He has a hunch and he doesn't like how it feels. “I love that guy more than I love myself. Geez, silver boy, I wait months for him.”  
  
“He does it too, also cries a lot," the strange adds, voice slow but firm. "I'm Liam, by the way."  
  
“Cries?” Louis repeats, attentive.  
  
Liam opens his mouth to reply, but then he shakes his head as he mutters, "It doesn't matter now." He doesn't want to drive off his attention. “Look, Louis, please take Harry away from here. He needs to see the world. He deserves the chance to raise the family he wants. The circus madness trapped us all, yet he’s untouched.”  
  
“Liam.”  
  
Zayn’s voice interrupts the intimate conversation going on between the boys. Liam stands upright and smiles at the illusionist, a smile that's wide and bright, but lack of emotion.

Louis isn’t sure if Zayn and Liam are in the same side, yet they appear to be together trying to fight back a bigger enemy.  
  
“You can wait for Harry inside, Louis,” Zayn suggest, opening the fabric tent door, paving the way. “He’ll be here as soon as his show ends.”  
  
Louis is staggered by their unexpected kindness, but he won’t complain if that means getting his ballerina back. His eyes look for Liam, who nods with the head, approving Zayn's suggestion.  
  
“Remember what I told you.” Is the last thing Louis hears from Liam before walking into the tent.  
  
The inside of Harry’s tent is… _Pink_. Louis doesn’t find any other way to describe it. Fluffy bed, a wide mirror, stuffed animals, loads of boxes with costumes, makeup and pretty things… All in shades of soft and bubble gum pink.  
  
He loves it. It smells like Harry, sweet and inviting; it looks like Harry, delicate and feminine. Louis’ eyes grow wet with only standing there, like the helpless lover he knows he is.

He misses his Ballerina Boy so much it makes it difficult to breathe.  
  
Since the day they laid eyes on each other, they became really dependent. Their hearts could only be soothed with whispered promises of everlasting love and the glimpse of a better future together; their bodies ached if they were apart, their thought were blurry if they didn't have each other.

It could have came as obsessive, but Louis knows it isn't the case. They love, and they love too much, it's just as simple as that.  
  
Yet Harry is a circus boy, Louis knows what they say about the circus artists: _who’s born in the circus dies in the circus._  
  
Louis walks towards the bed and he sits down, sinking into the pillows, lost on the memories and silent thoughts.

There’s a colorful poster hanging on the tent wall, a poster of a Harry wearing an argyle ballerina dress with a feathery white tutu, his face painted with the most exotic design, his long curls decorated with a biretta.  
  
Louis understands why people loves Harry. God, he feels what people feel when they see the boy on stage.

Harry was born to dance, to be a ballerina.

It’s humanly impossible to avoid being captivated by the magnetism he has.  
  
“…might need some time to think about it!”  
  
_Harry’s voice._ Harry’s deep, mannish voice.  
  
Louis gets off from bed with a quick jump, glancing at the mirror in a rapid attempt to look as good as he can.  
  
He’s meeting the love of his life, after all.  
  
“Stop, Nick!”  
  
The tent’s door is opened to reveal Harry in front of Louis for the very first time in months.  
  
He’s wrapped in an old and holey coat, with those brown boots too old, wearing a ridiculous hat with a feather. Apparently he has changed clothes after his show was finished.  
  
Louis feels his heart increasing his heart beats furiously inside his chest; and there are no words, no acts, just a prolonged silence and two gazes fixed on one another.

Louis waits until the realization sinks into his mind. The fucking love of his life is face to face with him.  
  
They stare at each other, trying to process the fact that they are together. Finally together, after five lonely months away from each other.

They're _together_ now, breathing the same air and just…  
  
“Lou,” Harry whispers and Louis loses it.  
  
The curly haired boy falls on his arms as Louis wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him into a warm embrace. He feels the way Harry’s body relaxes at his touch and melts into the hug, burying his face on the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.  
  
“Love. Harry, you’re here,” Louis stutters, his eyes watery.

His insides are a mess, hitting the bottom of his mental stability. Harry does things to him, powerful things. God, he's so emotional.  
  
“Yes. Yes, I’m here,” Harry replies happily, his voice croaky with tears of joy. “I’m here with you. Hi, Lou.”  
  
Louis pulls back and stares at his boy, who offers him a tiny smile.

His nose is red and his cheeks rosy, probably from makeup. _He's so pretty_. Louis smiles back and they start giggling stupidly, so in love and so reliant on each other.

They have forgotten that they weren’t alone. A grown man stands in the tent with his eyes on the couple, arching an eyebrow as soon as the lovers stop welcoming and turn to him.

“Nick.”

Nick Grimshaw.

Louis remembers the guy, Harry has talked about him. He's something like the best friend for the manager of the circus company, Ben, who has been chasing after his Harry for a long time now.

“Is this the reason why you have to think about it, Harry?” Nick asks meanly, giving Louis a despicable glance. “Because of this pathetic project of a man?”

“Hey! Swallow your words, idiot,” Louis threatens, stepping forward to show bravery.

Harry’s hand looks for his instantly, interlacing their fingers. It’s a silent way of asking Louis to stop, to keep his ground.

“Don’t start again, Nick,” Harry says politely, shaking his head.

“Yeah, whatever," Nick scoffs, rolling his eyes. "We can talk later, anyway. Think about Ben, Harry.”

Nick leaves the couple alone, not before winking at Harry. Louis is about to follow him, but his boy pulls from him and hugs him again, not letting him go.

“You’re warm,” Harry says, his voice gets lost in the curve of Louis' neck. “I missed your warmth.”

“You’re… hairy. Harry, you grew you hair so much,” Louis admires, stroking the hair that falls out of his hat.

“Don’t you like it?” he asks, leaning back to look at Louis, blushing like a little boy.

“I do, silly. I do like it, a lot.” Louis nods, failing when he tries to contain the fondness on his expression. “You’re the prettiest ballerina in town.”

“And I’m yours.”

Their gazes meet and Louis feels that weird electricity running from his feet toes to his fingers. He feels it in every muscle, every bit of his skin. It’s something only Harry causes on him.

They are so close, so close to being kissed and hugged, melting to become one. It has been months since Louis claimed Harry; and he wants him, he wants him so bad.

“Kiss me,” Louis mutters, but he doesn't leave Harry space for to access to his petition as he’s already leaning in, closing the distance between their mouths and kissing Harry on the lips for the very first time in months.

Louis’ lips are cold and chapped. It’s the epiphany of winter; yet as soon as Harry’s presses against his, the warm that Louis has inside his body turns on and makes his body’s temperature rise up.

They don’t move; they don’t do anything. It’s just their bodies connected by their lips, their lives and dreams mixing up on a simple kiss.

It’s all Louis has ever wanted and needed.

“I missed your show, I’m sorry,” Louis speaks softly when he breaks the kiss. “Zayn brought me here.”

Harry’s happy smile fades away in a blink of an eye as soon as he hears the name of Zayn, his expression turns clearly grave. His eyes glance at the door before getting closer to Louis and speaking in a very quiet voice.

“Did Zayn talk to you?”

“…yes?” Louis nods, doubtful. "He sent me a note, too."

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. He collapses on his bed, crushed.

Louis is befuddled, he doesn’t understand what's wrong. He thought it was a good thing, you know, _being together_. He was actually thankful for the way Zayn handled things out, but Harry doesn't seem to think the same.

“I thought it was a good idea to come to see you, Haz.” He sits down next to Harry, hesitant. "I mean... I finally see you after five months."

He really needs to touch Harry, but he doesn't. Physical contact is something they always ached to have, but Harry is acting weird.

“Lou, you don’t understand,” Harry whispers, a broken sigh leaves his mouth. “Zayn wants me to run away.”

“Liam too,” Louis admits, thanking Liam and Zayn for being by his side. “He told me.”

“I can’t!” Harry suddenly yells, his voice unexpectedly loud. Louis doesn't react because he's not used to this Harry. “He… Ben proposed me.”

That's the only thing Louis needs to hear in order to start shooting back.

“So what?” Louis asks and he doesn’t want to, but his anger starts to grow inside his chest.

He had proposed to Harry many times before, truly. Every time he popped the question, it was for real, even when they didn’t get married in the end.

“Ben is… powerful.”

“Excuse me?” Louis laughs coldly, throwing his head back as he pours all his bitterness onto the laughter. He doesn’t believe in Harry’s words. “Are you telling me that you’re thinking about saying yes?”

“Lou, he proposed and…”

“I proposed a million times already! Every time I see you, I do it, Harry!” he interrupts him, completely fuming and disappointed. “And guess what? You always say yes.”

“Lou, I know, I want to marry you but…”

“Stop, I get it.” Louis brings the fight to an end, his eyes flaming with fury. “You know what, Harry? I’m sorry that I don’t own a fucking circus company.”

That’s the last thing he says before walking out from the tent.

Louis is fucking _mad_ , angry to say the least. He has been waiting, craving Harry for five months, checking the newspaper every fucking morning to see if The Marvelous Circus Of BW was going to arrive in town.

They had been “together” (okay, Louis knows they can’t say they’re officially together, but fuck you, thank you very much; he loves Harry) for four years now. Four years spent loving Harry endlessly, being faithful to him, and hoping for a better future.

Yet Harry is Ben’s little puppet, the boy who wears fluffy pink tutus, the boy the audience loves.

Louis kicks the ground furiously as he starts walking towards the main tent, bumping into some artists a couple of times and without apologizing for it.

He feels his heart beating erratically inside his chest, and if his eyes are watery and his body feels like jelly, he pretends he doesn’t notice.

He loves Harry too much.

It isn’t healthy, falling in love with a circus artist. They enchant you with their skills, capture you with a dance, and steal your heart with an illusion trick.

Louis trips over a wood box and falls on the soil ground with a sharp sound. _Fuck, great_ , he thinks and he starts laughing because it's less miserable than crying.

He feels as if the world was crashing down on him; his luck falling downhill with no clear end. He wants to cry, to let the disillusionment flow away.

“Louis. Again.”

The guy in the silver suit. Liam.

“Liam,” Louis murmurs in a husky voice, accepting the hand he’s offering to him. “Thanks.”

Louis stands up and wipes the small tears that blurry his vision. It doesn't pass unnoticed by Louis the empathy in Liam's eyes, and he wishes he was friends with him.

He fucking needs a friend right now.

“He hates me, Liam,” Louis stutters and maybe he doesn't want to, but he finally breaks into sobs. He sits on the wooden box and Liam pats his back kindly.

“He doesn’t. He loves you more than anything in this world.”

Louis isn't really sure right now.

“Then why he wants to marry Ben?”

Liam doesn't reply right away. He stands lost in his own feelings for a moment, trying to pick up the right words to say.

"Harry never believed much in himself."

Louis raises his splotchy blue eyes, demanding a further explanation. Liam holds his gaze, but doesn't add a word.

Somewhere close, there is a pair of clowns practicing their tricks. Louis turns  to stare at them without saying anything at all.

“Zayn wrote you," Liam speaks out, ending the deep silence between them. "He wrote you under my consent. We want to help Harry."

"I'm sorry that I failed you, guys,” Louis sighs, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

“You didn't fail us,” Liam replies, shuddering shoulders. "You failed Harry."

“He isn’t running away even if I ask him with a ring and on my knees."

“Harry won't accept easily, Louis. His life belongs here, in the circus." Louis opens his mouth to argue, but Liam stops him with a motion of hands. "Ben made him believe he isn't worth it. But we know his future isn't here. His future is with you."

How much Louis wishes those words to be true. 

“Ben Winston fucked everything up,” he murmurs, crushed.

“Louis, listen to me,” Liam says, serious. “Ben is controlling him. The only who can help him, is you. Harry trusts you more than anyone in this world. We already tried, but he doesn’t listen to us.”

“Oh, really? Who are you, a mind reader?” Louis asks bitterly. He’s tired, people in that circus seem to be a bunch of freaks whose only purpose in life is to make his and Harry's love difficult and harder to defend.

He's snapping on Liam with no reason; the guy is the only one who has been really nice to him for now.

"I'm sorry. It's just..." He exhales noisily, defeated. "It's not with you. I was expecting to be with Harry these days, and we fought and I barely kissed him. I just need him. Fuck, Liam, I'm having an awful day."

“I know, lad.”

 _Okay, well,_ maybe Louis was overreacting. They exchange gazes, and Louis understands that even when they don’t know anything about the other, there’s one thing in common that bring them together: Harry.

Someone walks through them and says hello, Liam proceeds to hello back, Louis doesn’t. His eyes travel by the place and not really far from him, standing straight in the middle of the campus, he finds a man.

A man staring back at him. A blond man with green eyes, wearing something like a toga and Roman slippers. Something in his expression tells Louis he’s known by the guy.

Louis looks away as soon as they cross gazes. He doesn’t like the circus people. They’re all crazy as hell.

“Hey, Louis, take your time and come back tomorrow, okay?,” Liam suggests, patting his shoulder. “Don’t stay here for the night. Take your time, think, just... Don’t stay.”

“I won’t,” Louis accedes, thus he doesn’t have where to stay in the circus so Liam shouldn’t be worried. Either way, the boy frowns, mistrust written in his face. “I won’t, trust me! Harry doesn’t even want me here.”

“Right, right,” he gives up, nodding. “We can make it work tomorrow. Plan something. Just… Don’t stay."

Louis doesn’t ask why he is being so persistent on the matter because he knows he won’t reply anything to him; or at least, not something commonsensical.

If it wasn’t because his heart belongs to Harry, Louis would have ran away as far as he could from the circus long time ago.

The only thought in his mind while he walks away, is Harry. He hasn’t been with his ballerina for five months yet; and the day he comes back to him, they fight.

The feeling inside his chest belongs to the circus: it’s a strong and powerful love meant to make them happy, yet it turns them in two gloomy souls.

It’s a bond nobody can understand except Harry and Louis.

“Lou?”

Louis turns around brusquely when he hears that voice. He stops walking and turns around, feeling a heavy weight in his stomach.

Harry is standing in front of him with the expression of a lost puppy that is desperate to find his owner.

It’s ridiculous how quickly Louis’s heart softens at the sight.

“Haz, baby.”

“Can you… Hug me? Please?”

The question is so sweet yet so— _heartbreaking_. Harry is a soul that is constantly craving love, and Louis is sure nor Ben nor anyone in the fucking circus give him that love.

“Come here.”

Harry walks towards him with an hesitant step; but as soon as they're close enough, Louis catches him in his arms.

Harry let the arms of his lover hold him tightly and buries his face on his shoulder, melting in an embrace that feels like home. “Do you wanna come to my tent?"

“Isn't the answer obvious, Haz?"

Once in Harry’s tent, they get off their clothes and proceed to cuddle in bed, being as close as each other as they can.

They have this odd way of fitting into each other, tangling their limbs and hands as the hearts inside their chests beat at the rhythm of their love.

Harry idly runs the tip of his thumb by Louis’ chest, admiring how much he likes his chest hair, something he usually didn’t like in guys.

“I’m sorry I fought you, Lou.”

“It’s fine, dear,” Louis coos. Harry shakes his head, refusing to look up at him. The boy rests a finger beneath his chin and forces him to look up. “Hey, trust me. It’s fine.”

“You don't understand,” Harry says messily, kissing Louis’ mouth desperately. “My time is a waste of time without you. I get so lonely, and..."

Louis knows, Louis understands. He does it because he loves Harry as ardently as he loves him. Yet the way Harry acts, the way he'a stuttering and tripping over his tongue…

Harry is hiding something, and Louis doesn’t like the sensation of being lied.

 “…and?”

Harry hiccups and rubs his puffy eyes before saying, “Ben. He asked to marry me because… He…  Louis, please don't make me say it. Please. He— locked me when I didn’t kiss him.”

Louis’ expression doesn’t change a bit. His mind tries to process the fact that Harry, _his Harry_ , was harmed by another man.

Realization sinks into him as the atmosphere tenses. His grip on Harry's body tightens, bringing him closer.

Mad isn't even enough to describe Louis' feelings. As he understand, everything around him breaks apart.

 _Mad, angry, insane,_ and none of those words are enough.

He can't describe how it feels like, he can't put a label on his anger because the single thought of another man hurting, touching, hugging, kissing his ballerina boy makes his worst possessive instincts to appear, wanting nothing but to make Harry his.

It doesn't matter how innocent and understanding Harry’s heart is, nobody, _not even a fucking circus owner_ , has the right to treat him like trash.

"Harry," he whispers, trying to smooth Harry's soul with his voice. He kisses his temple and Harry shivers under his touch, snuggling closer, even if that's physically impossible. "Baby. I'm here. It's okay."

"I love you."

Louis knows it, and he kisses his boy for reassurance. 

“Harry, did he…?”

“No, Lou, he didn’t… Go that far,” Harry interrupts him, cheeks turning reddish. It’s clear how difficult it is for him to talk about the matter. He hides his face on Louis' chest and the older boy feels his body quivering, thus he starts drawing forms with his fingertips on Harry's back to calm him a little. “He liked to kiss me though. He made me sleep in his bed sometimes." He stifles a sob, scared. "I hate to be the big spoon, Lou.”

 _He wants to kill Ben._ Kill him in the slowest and most painful way possible.

Kill him until there isn't any glimpse of life in his miserable body. Making him pray for the soul he probably doesn't have.

Louis is tense, angry, but he tries to relax, he doesn't want to scare Harry.

“I wanted to say no,” Harry quickly clarifies because he doesn’t want Louis to think that he could prefer someone over him. “Ben... He gets so mad when I say no to him. He's right in the end; I belong here, in the circus.” He weeps, holding onto Louis so hard that it hurts the boy. Not that he minds, though. He’s shirtless and his swallow tattoos are visible, reminding Louis how strong their love is. “I’m a ballerina, Louis. People don’t like male ballerinas. You... You deserve someone better than me.”

“Harry, listen to you, please.”

“I do,” Harry nods, tears wetting his rosy cheeks. “I’m sorry. I… I will understand if you don’t want to touch me. I... I probably don't deserve you.”

“Harry, don’t talk bullshit,” Louis calls him off, the words feel sour on his mouth, yet he speaks the truth.

He doesn't really know what to say. He only wants to make it better for Harry, to assure him that he's there for him. He wants to be able to be his safe place.

 _Fuck_ , it's so hard when it's about Harry because Louis panics so easily when he has no clue of how to make it better, he loses all logic and clarity, he just wants him happy. 

Thing is, he doesn't know how to help him. He only knows how to love him (and maybe, that's enough).

“For God's sake, I... I fucking love you, Haz," Louis says, kissing his tears away. "Ben is a piece of trash; he's messing up your mind, lovely. You’re not this, you’re much more.” Harry’s green eyes are locked on him attentively. “Please, don't you ever think you don't deserve me. You do, more than anyone in this world."

“I love you. I don’t love Ben,” Harry insists, wetting his chapped lips with his tongue. “I want no one but you.”

Louis stares at him in hush, wondering how someone as perfect as Harry could ever have doubts about deserving love. He squeezes Harry’s hand and tries to speak many times, finding no words to say. He decides to kiss his boy instead, in a desperate attempt to find the right words.

“Harry,” he whispers, sliding his fingertips by Harry's jawline. “My baby boy. No one will touch you again. Not while I’m alive.”

Harry smiles shyly, and although his eyes are splotchy and red, he has stopped crying.

"Kiss me?” Harry mutters quietly. Louis fulfills his desires, joining their mouths in a tender kiss, their lips barely pressing together. He wants to make it gentle for Harry.

“Lou,” Harry insists, shifting closer to Louis, as if holding him could stop him from leaving. “Ben owns the circus. He owns everything that makes me, me.”

Harry’s face is wet with soundless tears that Louis wipes with his fingers, kissing every inch of his face. He is so gentle with Harry, so loving. 

“That’s a lie, Harry,” Louis speaks softly this time.

Harry buries his face on Louis’ chest and holds on firmly. It’s ridiculous, he’s much bigger than Louis yet he finds a way of curling into a small ball to fit in his arms like a baby.

“Please, don’t leave me.” Harry is crying fully now, unable to stop his sadness. “I… I like to feel you. You’re not like him. You’re warm. You spoon me.”

“I won’t leave you, my pretty ballerina,” Louis assures and he knows he's being honest. He kisses the top of Harry’s head, drawing circles with his fingers on his back. "Never."

Ditching his own desperation and horrible feeling of helplessness, Louis holds the love of his live on his arms, whispering litanies of love and devotion, evoking their souls and their love, speaking about an eternity where only him and Louis existed.

Every sob from Harry is a bullet to Louis' heart, a bullet he fights back with an whispered _'I love you'_.

“Louis. Please, take me,” he implores, his voice husky. “I hate this feeling. I hate to think that he wanted me. Please, make me yours.”

“Princess. Of course,” Louis nods, leaning down to kiss him hard on the mouth.

He knows Harry needs to feel him, to know that he belongs to Louis, body and soul, no matter how angry Ben gets for that.

Harry’s milky skin feels soft under his fingertips; Louis doesn't want to believe that his crimson lips could have been kissed by someone who wasn't him. He hates the feeling, but he tries to hold it back because he doesn’t want Harry to feel filthy.

Harry’s body quivers as Louis skims his finger by his naked torso, admiring how beautiful his boy is. The ballerina boy closes his eyes; his reddish plump lips are slightly parted, gasping quietly with the neediness that grows inside his chest.

Louis craves his boy more than anything in the world. He takes it slowly, taking off Harry’s pretty pink briefs and letting his eyes lust over the perfect body that Harry has.

“Has he touched you, baby?” He wants to be sure, alluding to Ben. He can’t cope with the idea that someone had the privilege to touch Harry, but if by any chance he forced Harry to have sex, Louis will man up and help to make it better for Harry.

“No,” Harry whimpers, relieving Louis' soul, and opens his eyes. His green eyes are glassy, there’s a stain of saliva on his lip that Louis wants to lick. “Never. I only want you to touch me.”

Harry quickly raises his head to kiss him. “Forgive me,” he whispers, taking Louis’ hand hurriedly, desperate to show his regret, regret he isn't supposed to feel because he didn't do anything wrong.

“I don’t have anything to forgive, angel,” Louis whispers, speaking the truth. How could he blame Harry? He's anything but guilty; Ben is the only one who deserves a punishment for being guilty.

“I don’t want to use a condom,” Harry speaks softly, almost as a murmur, as Louis kisses his lips tenderly, keeping it gentle. “I want you to fill me.”

“Sure?” Louis wants to make sure for it,caressing Harry's cheek with his thumb, feeling the softness of his skin under his touch. Harry nods as they kiss.

He is starting to get needy; his big hands grab Louis by his hips, holding onto him. He gasps as he slides by the bed until he’s on top of him, hardens rubbing against each other.

Louis is still in his underwear; the mere feel of Harry’s cock against his makes him moan.

“Don’t have lube,” Harry gasps, eyes glassed out when he looks at Louis. He shoves down as he starts rocking forward, rubbing their dicks.

“Wait, love,” Louis whispers. He stops Harry from doing anything and Harry submits at his orders, despite of the aching harden in his crotch, needing to be touched.

“Lay down for me, baby,” he asks, and Harry does as he's told, loving to be submissive to him. He lays on bed with his legs wide open, desperate for Louis.

Louis’ tiny hands caress his inner tights as he leans down to kiss his lower belly, Harry shivers at the touch. “Lovely and so impatient.”

Harry huffs as reply, his cock getting harder. Louis bites his bottom lip, teasing, just teasing and his hands travel by his naked body.

When Louis leans back, he stares at the boy who looks very much like an angel in bliss. He reaches a hand up to Harry’s mouth and, as Harry's eyes flutter shut and makes a tiny moan, Louis orders, "Suck, ballerina.”

Harry licks him eagerly, his plump lips wrapping around his fingers and licking as a kid licks a lollipop, enthusiastically and almost obsessively.

"My good boy," Louis praises him.

Once they’re enough soaked, Louis plays with his finger teasingly, sliding them by Harry’s ass rim but refusing to push in.

Harry bites his lower lip, trying to hold back his dirty sounds as his empty hole clutches around nothing.

Louis is dazzled looking at him, and he wants Harry to beg.

“Beg for me, ballerina,” he orders, his voice rough and heavy now.

“Please, fuck me,” Harry begs, and Louis shoves one finger inside him, Harry’s rim muscles tightening around it. "Yes, please, Lou."

The ballerina cries out in ecstasy, whispering nonsense as he begs for Louis to add another finger.

Louis reaches up his free hand to cover Harry’s mouth. “Keep it down, gorgeous. I’m not supposed to be here.”

He puts two fingers inside Harry at once, making the boy gasp with the sensations of being stretched out. He moves a little, his sweaty body tense with the need and sexual arousal.

“More,” he whimpers, his saliva soaking Louis’ palm.

Louis stares, stares because Harry is insanely pretty, no creature in the world can compare to him.

"Please, Lou. Need... Need your cock."

Louis’s fat dick aches with need, the sigh he has in front of his eyes driving him insane. Harry begging for him is one of the things he loves the most.

He curls his three fingers inside his boy, hitting his prostate. A loud moan leaves Harry’s lip, unable to contain his satisfaction. The younger boy clutches his ass, trying to get as much as Louis’s fingers as he can, and shoves down, fucking his hand.

Louis chuckles, so charmed by the perfection that is his boy. “Needy.” 

Harry nods impatiently, little moans escaping his lips. Louis frees his mouth, desperate to hear his boy’s sounds.

He enjoys the view; he loves to see that wrecked Harry, biting his red and plump lips as Louis works inside him. Yet the fingers aren’t enough.

Louis removes them and Harry whines with impatience. “No, please,” he moans, looking straight at Louis so intensely that paralyzes him for a second.

“Love you,” Louis says, kissing him briefly before taking off his boxers.

Harry is spread out on bed like a helpless damsel, his body shines with the drops of sweat. His head is tipped sharply back on the edge of the bed, in the perfect position for Louis to put his cock inside his mouth.

Louis slides by the mattress, standing up. He gets closer to his boy and puts his dick down his throat. The boy doesn’t argue, doesn’t ask, he just opens his mouth willingly to take Louis’s throbbing cock.

“You’re a good boy,” Louis praises, starting an in and out move inside Harry’s mouth, who takes him with no hesitation. They don’t stop staring; eyes connected as Harry sucks, licks and chokes with Louis’s cock, making him moan on pleasure.

The main purpose was to soak his cock so it doesn’t hurt when he fucks him; yet Louis gets caught up in Harry’s ability to deep throat him.

“Lou,” Harry chokes, sending vibrations all over Louis’s body. He manages to stop his motions, to stop fucking Harry’s mouth, and moves from his place.

Body against body, warmed up with the same heat, caught up in the adrenaline running down his veins, Louis settles on Harry, who raises his hips a bit, pulling his legs upward and spreading them.

“I don’t want you to hurt, stop me if you can’t take it.”

“Just— please,” Harry manages to say, as Louis takes his cock to position it on his entrance. He thrusts in hard, Harry cries, cries so loudly that the entire circus might hear, but Louis doesn’t care anymore because he’s making Harry his.

Harry, seeking more contact and wanting to be full, raises his legs completely, circling them around Louis’s hips. Louis loves to be this close to Harry, seeing his lover’s face, being able to see every splash of pleasure in Harry.

He feels the way Harry tightens around his cock; he can’t set a steady rhythm anymore, desperate pushing in and out, wanting to come, to feel the ecstasy taking control of every part of his body.

“So tight,” Louis gasps. Under him, Harry bites his puffy lips, Louis’s saliva soaking them. The hair is plastered to his sweaty forehead, and his eyes shut.

“Please, harder,” Harry asks; Louis leans down to kiss him as he pushes in harder.

In a mess of moans, sweats, and blank minds, Louis feels his orgasm building up on his belly. He starts moaning nonsense, Harry being his only thought.

“I’m close,” Harry whines and Louis can’t believe he’ll come undone, God, he wants to see it so hard.

“Come for me. Make me proud,” he demands, and Harry catches his breath, opening his eyes widely. He grips Louis’s hand tightly, before crying his name and coming undone, messing his belly with his cum.

That’s the last thing Louis needs, sending him over the edge, trusting in one more time before coming inside his boy.

His vision turns blurry and all the forces he had, abandon him all of a sudden. His body doesn’t have the strength needed to stand, so he just falls on Harry, who’s recovering his breathing.

“Thank you for loving me, Lou,” Harry mutters, kissing the top of Louis’s head.

Louis knows they don’t have words enough to express what they feel for each other. It’s a weird feeling, because they want to say it, to have the right word, yet they can’t.

“Thanks to you for letting me love you, Harry.”

He pulls out, Harry pouting when he does, and Louis kisses his pout away. They kiss lazily a bit more, until Harry rolls in bed and Louis wraps his arms around his waist to make of his ballerina, the little spoon.

“I can’t stay,” he mutters, feeling the tiredness and fatigue falling on him. His eyes flutter shut; Harry interlaces their fingers.

He falls asleep with his boy in his arms, anyway.

 

 

 

♥

 

 

Louis wakes up and finds out that he has done what Liam asked him not to: he stayed.

He’s laying on Harry’s bed, wrapped in one of his fluffy blankets, his naked body still smelling like sweat, sex and Harry. The ballerina boy is nowhere to be seen, probably practicing for his show.

Louis stares at the ceiling, lost in the sensations of Harry’s fingers stroking his skin. A flame burns inside his belly every time the memory of Harry’s body against him fills his mind.

He knows he’s far too gone for the boy; there’s no way back.

Louis yawns as he stretches, ready to wake up. Well, maybe Liam was exaggerating; nothing bad has happened in the course of the night. He gets up, looking for his clothes, and when he raises his eyes, he finds a blond guy standing at the tent door.

“Fucking shit,” Louis stutters, stepping back and quickly taking whatever he has near to cover his naked body. “I’m fucking naked!”

“Oh, don’t worry,” the boy says with a tone that may be Irish. “I’m used to see cocks. I don’t like them, anyway.”

“Why everyone in this fucking circus is so creepy?” Louis asks, putting on his briefs.

“It’s a circus, after all. I’m Niall.” Louis remembers why the guy seems familiar: it was the same one staring at him the day before. “I thought that Liam had told you to avoid staying here.”

Louis heaves a loud sigh while he gets dressed, ignoring Niall as much as he can. “I know. Something… I had to stay.”

“To be with Harry, I got it,” Niall nods in understanding, asking no more questions.

When Louis is done with the clothes, he turns to the mirror, finding his messy persona staring back at him. There’s no way he could look presentable, but there isn’t a shower near, so…

“Hey, Niall.”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you want me to stay?”

Louis crocks an eyebrow, defiant. The blond guy doesn’t seem like a bad one, he just looks like an artist swallowed up by the enchantment of the circus.

“Hum...”

“Niall,” Louis adds, cautious. He has an idea, but he doesn’t want to say it out loud. The mere thought scares him. “Where’s Harry?”

“We heard you!” Niall explodes. “Everybody did! Ben found out and now he has Harry in…” He stops talking.

“He has Harry where? Where is my Harry, Niall?”

He doesn’t expect Niall to reply, God; he doesn’t want to hear a reply. He’s tired of everything, he didn’t come there to be draped by the circus magic, he did because he wanted to save Harry.

Niall stares at him with no readable expression in his face for a while. Louis holds his gaze with no vacillation or any sign of nuisance. He ignores the mess that is his thoughts, trying to focus on one simple goal: to find Harry.

“He locked him.”

“I want to see him.”

The request surprises Louis himself, who wasn’t really thinking when he spoke. Niall keeps staring, and something like a smirk appears on the corner of his mouth. “You sure, mate?”

“Yes,” Louis answers. “I have to be where Harry is.”

Louis looks down at his hands, and the time where those fingers where inside Harry seems so far away in time. Yet if he closes his eyes, he can feel the warmth of Harry’s lips against his. He can feel the electricity of their closeness on his belly.

“Mate,” Niall speaks, waking Louis up from his daydreams. “You’re a nice lad. I don’t understand how you ended up here, but I like you. In any other world, we could have been friends.”

Louis smiles at Niall, giving him a thankful look. “You know what a friend would do now, Niall?”

The Irish guy sighs, rolling his eyes. He knows Louis is about to ask him something. “I don’t know. You tell me, Lou.”

“Take me with Harry right, now.”

“I expect a good reward for it!” he jokes, winking at him.

Niall guides Louis by the circus, towards a very tiny tent away from the rest of the people. His heart pounds like a drum inside his chest, his senses are constantly watchful, knowing that he can be caught anytime soon.

Yet that part of the circus seems to be completely lonely. The show is running in the main tent, that’s clear. He eyes at the smaller tents there and spots it: the black and white striped one.

“Go and find your ballerina,” Niall tells, pointing at the tent. Louis doesn’t wait a minute, he just goes for it.

He doesn’t think anymore. He only wants him.

He walks inside, anxious, screaming Harry's name, and what he finds inside scares him to death. There’s a cage in the middle of the room, a silver cage big enough to lock a human inside. Actually, there’s a human inside.

It’s insane; Louis doesn’t find any logical explanation for it. Yet once again, he’s in a circus. Nothing is logical.

“Harry.”

As soon as Louis calls his name, the ballerina locked inside the cage raises his head, meeting his eyes with Louis’s. He stands up hurriedly from his place on the floor; his eyes widen, and a smile cracks his face. “Lou.”

The lovers run to each other, Harry is stopped by the cage bars, yet Louis tries to hug him anyway. They kiss messily, mouths desperate wanting to taste each other. Louis feels so much, he fears he’s going crazy.

“Please, let me out of here,” Harry pleads between kisses, his saliva soaking Louis’s lips. “I’m scared.”

Harry’s plump lips are moist, shining with the traces of his saliva. They beg to be kissed. Louis nods and leans into kiss him one more time. He touches Harry’s lip with his tongue, tasting waters, and Harry opens his mouth, gasping, wanting to deepen the kiss.

“Why on earth are you inside this cage, pretty?” Louis asks, pulling back, eyeing at Harry’s costume. He’s wearing a simple blue ballerina dress and a fluffy tutu.

“It was Ben's idea. It’s for… the show, I guess.”

“Bullshit,” he grumbles, caressing Harry’s cheeks with his hand. Harry leans into his touch, closing his eyes and about to purr like a kitten. “He’s keeping you away from me.”

“I know,” Harry nods, speaking with a slow voice.

Louis stares at the pretty face of his boy. Harry is so delicate and feminine; his features are childlike, cute. He wants to kiss him endlessly until they can’t breathe anymore.

“I want to see Ben.” Louis decides to be honest about it, because Harry deserves it.

“What?” Harry stutters, opening his eyes. “What, no, Louis!”

“I’m tired of that shady man. Who is he? Why did he lock you here?”

Harry’s eyes clouds with something what seems to be fear and sadness. Fear because he doesn't want Louis to be hurt; Louis knows it, but he can't have his sunshine if he doesn't risk anything in the process.

“He isn’t good, he will hurt you.”

“I don't care about Ben, Harry," Louis explains to his lover. The worried eyes of Harry are like daggers to Louis's heart, they hurt. "He can suck my dick."

“He doesn’t suck dicks, Mr. Louis Tomlinson, but you can suck mine if you want.”

The voice of a man comes into Louis’s brain, freezing him. Shivers run down his spine, making his blood turn cold as ice. He feels his breathing getting heavier; he looks at Harry, who’s looking behind him.

Louis takes a deep breath and finally turns around.

It isn’t the man Louis expected to be there. It’s just Nick, who’s much taller and older than Louis, that’s for sure, for who is also a twat. Louis isn’t scared of him. Nick wears a crimson suit and a top hat that marks his sharp features. His eyes are the eyes of an eagle, staring at Louis attentively.

“Second time I see you, Tomlinson. I'm glad.”

Nick walks towards Louis with a nonchalant step. Louis doesn’t move, trying to process everything that’s happening and to think as faster as he can.

“I’d love to say the same,” Louis tells, showing more security than what he really has. “Unfortunately, your friend Winston has my boy inside a cage.”

Nick laughs bitterly. “I didn’t know that Harry was labeled as yours.”

“Nick,” Harry pleads from the cage. "Please, Nick, not with Louis. We talked about this."

Harry speaks with a wrecked voice, yet what makes Louis's stomach twist is the way he says that Nick and he had talked about it, _about him_. Harry shouldn't be the one fighting back; he should be the one being protected.

"Harry, this is none of your business," Nick speaks to him, not even glancing at the boy. “Stand aside and you’ll be fine.”

"No, this is my business too," Harry corrects him. "Nick, please."

Louis decides to put a stop at the conversation because he doesn’t feel in charge and he hates the feeling. “Listen to me, idiot. I want Harry free.”

“Why did you stay, then?”

Louis doesn’t flinch at the question. Harry was loud last night; it was clear as water that somebody would have heard them.

“To give him all the love he deserves.”

Nick squints his eyes and stops moving in circles around Louis. The wrinkles on the corner of his eyes speak of a man with history and years of living; his eyes are dull and lonely. Louis wonders if he’s really bad, though. He doesn't seem dreadful.

“Ben knows about you. He kept an eye on you. You know it?”

Louis doesn’t step back. “No, but I guessed it.”

Nick smiles, but his smile is a dry one, not a hint of happiness on it. “Are you afraid of insanity, Louis?”

“Why should I?”

Nick shakes his head slowly, pressing his lips together. “You disappoint me.”

“I wasn’t trying to impress you, anyway.”

Louis smirks at him, and Nick is taken by surprise so he doesn’t find any other witty comment to make. He chews his bottom lip and decides to leave Louis and walk towards the ballerina.

Harry is sitting on the floor, and he doesn’t attempt to move when Nick kneels down in front of him.

“I’m not Ben’s. I won’t marry him,” Harry says loudly, clear enough to be understood.

Nick puckers up his lips. Louis is looking at them, finding Nick’s attitude extremely odd. He isn't doing anything, isn't he supposed to be beating him to death and telling him to stay away from Harry?

“Set him free,” Louis warns one more time, his guts burning with fury. The guy turns to him and sighs before standing up.

“Even if I wanted too, I can’t, Tomlinson. I don’t have the key.” The eyes of Nick don’t have fakeness. They’re dull and sad, yet they don’t lie.

“Where I can find it?”

Nick shrugs shoulders. “Magic, I guess.”

Typical, Louis thinks.

His eyes drop to the ground, lost in his thoughts. He has to find a way, there must be a way to save Harry. When Louis comes back to earth, Nick is already gone. Harry is sobbing silently inside the cage, whispering broken words.

Louis kneels by his side, sliding his hand through the bars and intertwining their fingers. He likes when Harry holds his hands, it’s a sign that Harry belongs to him, to his arms.

“Don’t leave me,” Harry blubbers between tears.

“Harry, baby,” Louis whispers, caressing his curls. “I will never, never leave you.”

“I’m so sorry that I dragged you in this madness,” Harry keeps apologizing and Louis honestly thinks it’s absurd. He’s a grown man; he has made his own choices. If he’s there, it's because Harry is worth the fight.

“I’m not going to reply to that, Harry, because you already know what I think.”

Harry looks up at him, his eyes clouded with a blend of emotions. “I love you. Unconditionally.”

They seal their love with soft kisses and tender caresses; not even the iron bars of the cage can stop them from being together. Everything seems to have reached a dead end, with no happy smiles and promises made dust.

 

 

♥

 

 

“What are you doing here, Louis?” Liam asks when he spots Louis walking towards the tent where Zayn performs his magic show.

“I need to speak with Zayn.”

“Right now, he's performing.”

“I told him that already!” Niall speaks, who has been following Louis like his shadow.

“Do you know where Harry is?” he asks, crudely. “He’s locked inside a cage. So please, Liam, be a good lad and let me see Zayn.”

Liam doesn’t seem too willing to put a huge resistance, though, so he agrees. “Okay, right. But you will have to wait until his show ends.”

“I will.”

“Zayn’s show is awesome, anyway. You will enjoy it,” Niall points out, winking. It almost makes Louis smile. They’re good people.

The inside is crowded by people sitting on the podium, watching Zayn make some magic trick in the scenery. Unlike the majority of the magicians and illusionist, Zayn doesn't speak a word while he works, which makes him more mysterious.

Louis, Niall and Liam sit in first row, and watch Zayn cut a girl in three pieces and then put her right back. The public seems to love the illusionist, as they break in an excited ovation and ask for more.

Zayn scans the multitude with his dark eyes, landing in Louis and his lads. The corner of his mouth bends in something slightly similar to a smile and starts walking towards them.

“Well, gentlemen,” he cheers to the lad, but then his attention focuses on Louis. “Do you wanna see a magic trick?”

The voice of Zayn is the epitome of mystery. He’s standing there in his black suit, with his top hat. His gaze is fixed on Louis, it makes him really nervous.

“I would love to,” he nods, tentative.

“Give me your hand,” Zayn asks and Louis obeys. Zayn’s hand is enfolded in a white globe and is soft to the touch. When he places his hand on Louis’s, he feels something heavy on his palm. “What do you see?”

Louis looks down at his palm. “A coin.”

“A coin is made of metal, right?”

Louis feels his chest oppressed. He’s nervous. “Right, I guess.”

“A key,” Zayn says, as his hand slides by Louis’s tattooed arm to finish on his hand again. He squeezes it harder. Louis is rubbish at finding who magic tricks work, so when he feels something heavier on his hand, his heart skips a beat. “A key is also made of metal.”

Indeed, there’s a key on Louis’s palm, the coin has disappeared. The blue eyes of the boy stare at it, trying to find a logical explanation. Meanwhile, the crowd applauds.

“I’m glad that Harry found you,” Zayn whispers before bowing to the audience.

Then everything makes sense.

Magic, Nick has said it. The only way to find the key is by  _magic_.

For the very first time since he met Harry, Louis honestly wonders who (or what) is Ben. Like, really: is he a simple human, or is he the illusion of a man that doesn’t exist yet hunts every soul alive?

“Why everybody wants to help Harry?”

“Louis,” Liam is the one speaking now, whispering in his ear. “For those who don’t have anything left in this world, the circus gives us a reason. We like the madness; we take it as ours, as our reason to live. Harry has something more, something better: he has true love.”

Louis doesn't find forces even to blink. Liam’s words speak so much truth, and he has said it without beating about the bush.

He stands stupidly in his seat, watching Zayn walking away, the audience still clapping their hands. The world is such a weird place, Louis thinks, and probably those artists at the circus have discovered more tricks than the rest of the world.

Deep inside they aren’t a group of freaks, they know better; they’re wise people.

 

 

♥

 

 

When Louis comes back, Harry is leaning against the cage bars, his eyes glued at the door with nervousness printed in them. The instant he spots Louis, he sighs in relief.

“Louis,” he whispers, managing to kiss Louis in the mouth when he gets closer. “I was worried about you.”

“Well,” Louis says, his pulse shaking. God, he’s so fucking nervous. He tries to hold the key, but his hands are shaking like crazy. “Apparently, I have the whole circus and also the magic by my side.”

As soon as Harry sees the key, he opens his eyes, surprised, and asks, “Where did you get it?”

“Zayn gave it to me. God, Harry, I have so many questions and zero answers.”

“You don’t need the answers. I don’t, either,” Harry mutters as they walk towards the cage door. “The only answer I need is you.” Louis’s hand is shaking messily while he tries to put the key inside the lock. He has to close his eyes and count to ten to relax a little, yet the only thing that finally works, is when Harry kisses his hand gently.

“Shhh, Lou. It’s fine.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” he confesses, his voice sounding drowned. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to help you when Ben... I'm just sorry.”

He turns the key and with soft _“click”,_ the door is open. Harry steps out of the cage and jumps to Louis’s arm. His lanky body presses against Louis’s as much as he can; the older boy wraps him in his arms and kisses his face tenderly. The warmth of Harry’s body envelops him like a nice summer breeze. Everything makes sense when they’re together, Louis thinks.

“Louis, please, don’t be sorry,” Harry murmurs, burying his face in the crook of Louis's neck. "Truth is: I don't understand why you love me. I'm so messed up."

Louis cups his hands on Harry’s face, silently asking him to look him in the eyes, and when Harry moves a bit, Louis closes the distance between them and kisses him on the lips. "You're not messed up, Harry. You're unique, perfect, so... you. I'm proud of you, always will."

“Thank you,” Harry manages to say with a choked voice. His thumb strokes Louis’s hand, asking to hold him.

Louis sees how much Ben had hurt his boy emotionally, convincing him that he couldn’t be good enough for anyone. Yet between killing Ben and running away to give Harry the chance to be happy, he chooses the second one. He chooses hope.

“Don't thank me for talking the truth, love,” Louis whispers, kissing the edge of Harry's mouth. He rests his forehead against Harry, his warmth breathing blowing against his mouth. “I love you. I have loved you since the first time I saw your show.”

Harry kisses those words from Louis’s lips, desperate to feel him.

“Now, we’re going home.”

“What if Ben finds us?” Harry stutters, his fingers running down by Louis’s arm. “He knows what we did yesterday, that’s why he suggested locking me here. He’s mad that he never had me and you did.”

“Babe,” Louis tries to win over Harry’s blindness, to make him think straight. He knows he will have a hard battle to fight, a battle with the demons Harry has inside his mind. He’s ready to fight, though. “Ben isn’t God. I know he’s a real person, though, but his whole mystery and power? Where does it come from? He’s just a human, Haz. Without this circus, he’s nothing more than a man.”

“Yes, I know,” Harry nods, his eyes puffy and wet. “He… scares me, anyway. He treated me so bad sometimes.”

“We'll talk about it, eventually. We’ll make it better, ok? Always together. Ben is past now,” Louis assures, trying to ignore the anger that causes on him the thought of someone hurting his ballerina. “And past is the only thing he’s going to be from then on. Okay?”

“Hum,” Harry nods, nuzzling his face on Louis’s shoulder. “Okay. Yes. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Louis whispers, holding his boy close. “You won’t need to stop being who you are, yes, Haz? But you need to be far away from here.”

“And Niall? What about the boys?”

Louis didn’t think about them, honestly. They did everything under their power to help Harry, anyway, so Louis is hundred percent sure that they’re fine with the idea of having him away.

“Remember that Zayn is the one who wrote me,” he reminds him, kissing the tip of Harry’s nose. Harry giggles childishly when he does. “They want you to be safe. This is their home, but you…” Louis explains, remembering Liam’s words. “You aren’t safe here.”

Harry nods with his head, his curls bouncing with the motion. Their eyes meet and, for a moment, a silent conversation goes between them. A conversation where the future is bright and the promises are strong.

“Let’s run away, Princess.”

“Where are we going? We don’t have any money, I can’t do anything but dance and people…”

“Lovely, please, don’t worry. We’re going to find out,” Louis coos his boy, kissing him briefly. He kisses his mouth, then his cheeks, and hears Harry humming contently. “We’re together.”

Harry’s green eyes look up at him and he makes one of his childish, charming smiles that Louis got to love with his entire heart.

“I love you more than anything in this world, Lou. Can you...?" His cheeks turn reddish as he talks. He licks his lips hesitantly. "Can you... Ask me… Again? You haven’t yet. You know…”

Louis's heart melts at the sweetheart that is Harry. He knows what his asking even when Harry didn’t say it. He wonders why he got so lucky to have this boy.

“Yes, of course, princess,” he nods, smiling fondly, and kneels down in front of him. Louis lost counting of the many times he had proposed to Harry, yet this time, he hopes it’s the last one. He hopes it is the one that leads them to the city hall. “Would you marry me, ballerina boy?”

Harry giggles, biting his thumb like a little boy, and nods with the head. His smile is too wide and his eyes are wet with happy tears. “Yes,” he answers. “Yes, forever yes, Lou! I want to be Mr. Tomlinson.”

“I’m glad,” Louis says, standing up, “because I want you to me mine and only mine.”

"I want to be yours and only yours," Harry whispers, smiling like a kid on Christmas. “What now, Lou?”

“Now,” Louis replies with a soft voice. “It’s our time to go. The show must go on, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry nods. “Yes, the show must go on.”

 

_El Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> yes, my first bottom!harry. talk to me [on tumblr x](http://ijustgotowisharder.tumblr.com/)


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